


Frozen Bodies, Burning Hearts

by TheNightSkyObserver



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blizzards, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injuries worsened by environment, M/M, Major Character Injury, No Respawn AU, Permanent Death AU, Poetic Depictions of Snow and Ice, Winter Holidays gone wrong, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightSkyObserver/pseuds/TheNightSkyObserver
Summary: Grian and Mumbo are lost and stranded due to a wicked blizzard. The ice and snow want to keep them forever. Neither are sure if they'll make it out alive.
Relationships: Grian/Iskall85, Grian/Mumbo Jumbo, Grian/Mumbo Jumbo/Iskall85/Stressmonster, Grian/Stressmonster, Iskall85/StressMonster, Mumbo Jumbo/Iskall85, Mumbo Jumbo/Stressmonster
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Frozen Bodies, Burning Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY 2ND CHRISTMAS FRIEND, I HOPE YOU ENJOY

Snow.  
Snow is many things and can take many forms.   
Snow is kind; a soft caress of a lover’s gloved hand against your wind chilled cheek.   
Snow is bright; fields of glittering crystals reflecting the sun’s rays into a mirror of light.  
Snow is cruel; the haunted faces of children forced to choose between warmth and dinner.

Ice.  
Ice is many things and can take many forms.  
Ice is sweet; the relief of the fiery sting of injuries slipping away.  
Ice is harsh; fields of ruined crops, a family left with nothing.   
Ice is inevitable; the creeping frozen tendrils of darkness as day ends and night reigns supreme.

Winter is a severe and temperamental mistress, her moods and attitudes as constant yet ever changing as the elements that march alongside her. Winter can bring the most pleasant of days, where the wind can bring snow as soft as a newly knitted blanket, the cold like a lover’s embrace. Winter can also bring with it the most vicious of days, where the frigid air can carry with it snow that plunges the world into a horrid darkness, the ice cutting through your skin like daggers.

Winter is untamable. You do not control the cold; you do not change it. You merely wait for the sun’s warmth each morning, and hope to survive the night. 

* * *

The sun had been rising steadily in the east, making the freshly fallen snow twinkle like stars as Mumbo and Grian glided north towards the nearest spruce forest, the air cold against their faces. Their laughter bounced between them as they went, their happiness warming them from within. They had been tasked by Iskall and Stress to procure a sizable tree for the four’s home as part of their winter celebrations. Stress had told them not to work themselves to the bone though, emphasizing that _‘The holiday won’t be as fun if we hafta nurse ya two back to health! So be careful ya hear?’_ She and Iskall had both kissed their cheeks in goodbye, and Mumbo and Grian had taken to the air, with promises of a beautiful tree on their return.

They had touched down in the spruce forest just before noon, and had immediately spotted one that they both believed would suit their home nicely. It stood tall against the hillside it resided on, its needles thick and healthy, shining a deep, dark green in the winter sunlight. Grian and Mumbo had made quick work of chopping it down and tying it up, despite the impromptu snowball fight that left them both covered in snow and giggling like children. The icy air did nothing to dampen their spirits. Quite proud of themselves, they had gotten back up into the air just as the day turned into afternoon.

Neither of them had noticed the dark, swirling storm clouds mounting on the horizon.

Not until it was too late.

Grian adjusts his grip on the tree currently suspended in the air between them, his eyes flicking back south, where the sun is just beginning to become obscured by the inky black clouds that have taken over the previously light blue sky. They were around halfway home, though the flight back was taking significantly longer due to the added weight of the tree and the need to fly perfectly in sync. Glancing over for a moment, Grian notices that while Mumbo has been quiet, the worry of the storm is plaguing him as well, from the deep burrow of his eyebrows and thin line of his lips.

The air around them is growing colder and colder, and Grian has to continuously adjust his grip on the tree, willing some feeling back into his fingers. He can feel the ice of the clouds pressing down at him, slowly creeping into his skin, the tendrils of frozen glass working their way through his nerves, leaving nothing but numbness in their wake. He just wants to close his eyes and succumb to the pull of the sleep the ice has left within him… it would be so easy to just drift off into the clouds…

“—ian! Grian! _Grian!_ ” Mumbo’s voice cuts through the haze in his mind and he jolts.

His first mistake.

His sharp movement sends the tree tumbling from his hands, plummeting to the ground below. And sending Mumbo hurling to the side, his elytra crumpling against the suddenly opposing winds. Grian doesn’t even think, only forcing his own elytra to accept the frantic change in direction, and rockets down after his boyfriend.

“Mumbo, spread out! Slow the fall!” Grian isn’t even sure Mumbo can hear him against the raging winds, but he screams it out anyway. Anything to try and save him. Mumbo either hears him or has the presence of mind to do it himself, as Grian crashes into him within moments. He thinks Mumbo is trying to tell him something, but all he can focus on is trying to slow their descent as best he can.

His second mistake.

He can feel an inkling in the back of his mind that he missed a step to ensure their safe landing, but it doesn’t hit him until the ground is rushing up to meet them.

He hadn’t aimed the glide.

They were about to crash.

He twists them around, hoping that maybe the elytra will take the brunt of the impact, but knowing that at least Mumbo won’t.

“I’m sorry Mumbo,” he whispers.

He doesn’t feel the impact of their bodies to the ground.

All he feels is numb.

* * *

The clouds had seemed to come so quickly. Mumbo had enjoyed his and Grian’s playful morning together, but now he wishes he had never gotten out of bed. Everything between getting themselves and the tree into the air and the sharp movement that sent him careening into the sky with a broken elytra have blurred together. Grian’s jolt tears the tree out of his hands, and the next thing he knows, he’s plummeting through the air, his elytra in shreds on his back. Distantly, Mumbo thinks he hears Grian shouting above him, but he can’t make out the words over the roaring wind. He spreads his limbs out to try and slow his descent, grimacing as the icy air rips at his face and hands.

He’s suddenly crashed into by Grian, and Mumbo just manages to catch a glimpse of Grian’s own, thankfully still functioning, elytra. However, Mumbo’s heart seizes in his chest when he realizes that Grian isn’t actually gliding, he’s just slowing their fall down.

“Grian, Grian we need to glide! Grian you need to dip into a dive! _Grian!_ ” His words go unheard, and Mumbo clenches his eyes shut at the sight of the ground rushing up to meet them. Grian suddenly twists though, and Mumbo just barely hears Grian’s faint words.

“ _I’m sorry Mumbo.”_

In one last ditch effort, Mumbo twists his own body, throwing one arm out and using the other to get a grip on Grian’s now limp body.

Somehow, they crash into a snow bank on the side of a mountain. The initial impact has Mumbo seeing stars as they tumble down the snow-covered slope. Mumbo’s body is screaming out in pain as they bounce, but it’s all he can do to keep his grip on Grian, determined to not lose him to the snow.

They finally come to a stop at the base of the mountain, and Mumbo can’t keep the sobs of pain from escaping. He can feel blood oozing out from the dozens and dozens of scraps and cuts littering his body beneath his clothes, and mixed with the stinging cold of the icy rain and snow currently assaulting them from above, it makes for an overall miserable existence. He can’t just lie here and take it though. He won’t.

With a cry of pain, Mumbo forces himself onto his side, and pushes himself up, despite the wind practically shoving him right back down. The storm around them is making it near impossible to see their surroundings, but after wiping some of the ice crystals forming in his eyelashes, Mumbo just makes out what looks like the entrance to a cave a little ways up the mountain. Steeling himself against the wind that threatens to knock him over, Mumbo secures not only his own pack, but after retrieving it, Grian’s pack as well, to his shoulders, and scoops Grian’s unmoving form into his arms.

It’s slow going, hauling Grian up a mountain in the middle of the worst blizzard Mumbo has ever experienced, coupled with his own injuries, but he eventually makes it to the cave, and sighs with relief upon seeing that it’s just big enough for the two of them to fit. He drags them both inside and promptly collapses into the dirt. Everything hurts, everything aches, and he’s terrified out of his mind. They could die out here, lost in the snow and ice forever. With shaking hands and vision blurry from tears he refuses to let fall, Mumbo pushes himself back up and gets to work. Their communicators are both dark and useless in their packs, too waterlogged and cold to be of any usefulness, so Mumbo moves on to the next course of action.

He lets his first aid knowledge send his body into auto-pilot, and just tries to keep his worries from slowing him down. After setting up a torch next to Grian, Mumbo rifles through their packs, cursing their apparent joint foolishness, as neither of them had thought to bring materials to make a fire aside from flint and steel. The torch will have to do for now. Thankfully they had both had rolls of clean bandages, and even better, Grian’s pack yields him half of a health potion, courtesy of Stress, he’s sure.

He allows himself a small sip, coughing at the feeling of the potion burning its way down his throat. He knows when it starts to work however, a blanket of relief settling over his limbs as some of the deep ache dissipates. He knows the effects won’t last for long, with how small of a sip he took, so he doubles down on getting Grian put back together as best he can. Mumbo dribbles a bit of the potion into Grian’s mouth, holding his mouth shut to make sure it goes down his throat. Unconscious as he is, Grian still grimaces and winces at the potion, before his face going slack again, so Mumbo knows it managed to get into his system. Finally allowing himself to truly take stock of Grian’s injuries though, Mumbo feels his heart crack.

His boyfriend is absolutely riddled with scrapes and cuts and bruises, one on his arm particularly worrying. Mumbo methodically treats all the cuts and scrapes he can, dabbing them with a cloth sprinkled with the health potion, before wrapping them securely with clean bandages. Finally, Mumbo has everything cleaned and wrapped that he can, and all that’s left to do is get Grian as comfortable as possible, and hope that he wakes up soon.

He pulls Grian close, and rearranges them both so that they’re right next to the torch, soaking in the minuscule amount of heat it provides. The storm continues to rage outside, the sky a deep and angry dark blue-gray, the snow and ice whistling past the cave entrance with a vengeance; hoping to worm its way inside and finish them off once and for all, Mumbo is sure.

Placing a chaste kiss on Grian’s forehead, Mumbo resigns himself to the waiting game.

Hopefully the cold doesn’t kill him first.

* * *

Nothing feels real as Grian comes back to himself. His mind feels slow, like his thoughts are dripping molasses, his limbs near unresponsive. He wants nothing more than to curl back up and let sleep overtake him again, but something… someone is trying to talk to him?

“Grian please wake up love, Grian!” Mumbo’s voice drifts into his brain, but he can hardly understand why Mumbo sounds so upset. Had Grian upset him? Did something happen? He opens his eyes and is met with an extremely battered Mumbo who has ice crystals stuck in his eye lashes, his deep maroon eyes swimming with fear and terror. His surroundings slowly begin to make sense, between the darkness of the cave ceiling above him, and the exceedingly faint flicker of torch light beside them, he reasons that they must have crash landed near a mountain side.

“Wh-where ‘r we?” He manages to croak out, though gasping out in pain as he attempts to sit up. His muscles can’t seem to decide whether they’re burning or frozen, and it’s as if icy acid is running through his veins. His skin feels torn and he distantly registers the pull of blood-soaked bandages on his arms and legs. The all-encompassing pain serves to jolt his consciousness to full awareness at least.

“Try not to move, you took the brunt of our… fall. We’re in a small cave near the hillside we landed on. It… we were both out in the storm for much longer than we should have been, and you’ve been out of it for about two hours, I think. All either of us had in our packs were torches, and the snow and ice ensured that there’s no dry kindling to use for a real fire and both of our communicators got ruined from the storm and—,” Grian cuts off Mumbo’s nervous rambles by grabbing his hand and squeezing.

“You did good Mumbo, thank you. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you okay? Let’s just, breathe, and try to think of what to do,” Grian tries to smile at him, but he thinks it probably looks more like a grimace. Mumbo opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted by the storm outside. The intense winds seem to grow even angrier, the whistling past the narrow cave entrance sounding like the screams of the damned mixed with the sobs of starving and broken children. The cave seems to grow darker and colder, as if the clouds themselves are pushing through the opening to try and reach them; to try and snuff them out. The torch flickers dangerously as a rogue gust of frigid air rushes in, leaving them cold and shivering in each other’s arms. Grian hears Mumbo let out a quiet huff, the taller man sounding as if he’s trying to hold himself together with nothing but sheer will.

“It’s okay Mumbo, I’m here, I’m here now love,” Grian whispers, ignoring his own pain in order to pull Mumbo closer. Grian has to fight back tears of his own as Mumbo becomes unglued in his embrace, tears pouring down his face, his breathing shallow and forced. Grian feels Mumbo’s shaking through his entire body, and his heart aches, knowing he can do nothing to quell the hurt plaguing his boyfriend.

“I—I thought I lost you for a while. I thought I lost you and was stranded in the middle of nowhere, freezing and alone. I thought this was it. I--,” Mumbo’s voice cracks and another broken sob falls from his lips. Straining against his wounds and bandages, Grian stretches up to cup Mumbo’s cheek and try to wipe some of the tears away.

“I’m right here Mumbo. We’re together, it’s gonna be alright,” Grian says, feeling tears of his own slip down his cheeks, leaving flaming streaks in their wake. A cough suddenly rips from his throat, and he doubles over, pain flaring up from what he assumes are gashes in his back, along with the deep stabbing ache of his lungs. A flash of red in his hand tells him that his injuries are much more severe than he’d previously believed, probably more severe than Mumbo could see and attempt to treat. He tries to not let anything show on his face, however; he doesn’t want to worry Mumbo anymore than he already has.

Another gust of frozen air rips through the cave, this time taking their only hint of warmth with it. The two are plunged into darkness, and the cave seems in turn to ice as the light disappears. Grian feels more than hears Mumbo pat around the ground in search of the torch and the flint and steel needed to make it useful. He fumbles for a few moments until the torch finally takes after dozens of flint cracks. The light orange flame flickers, and Grian knows that it’s only a matter of time before the weak fire is smothered for good, and they’ll be left in the inky black to finally freeze.

Mumbo shifts slightly and gently pulls Grian against his chest. They sit in silence, merely taking comfort in each other’s presence and arms, listening to the storm continue to howl and rage just outside the cave. Time slips away as the entrance to the cave is slowly overtaken by the snow outside, and while it offers some semblance of protection from the deadly wind, all Grian can think is that he and Mumbo will be buried alive, and no one will ever find their bodies, frozen together in one last embrace. At least until Mumbo’s hand goes limp where it had been squeezing Grian’s arm.

“Mumbo?” Grian asks quietly, trying not to let too much concern worm into his voice, despite his heart dropping like lead into his stomach.

“Mumbo?” Grian asks louder, feeling his hands begin to shake. His boyfriend doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move, and Grian whips his body around, ignoring the pain the racks through his entire being at this sharp movement. Behind him, Mumbo’s face is unnaturally pale, lax, and cold to the touch. Gingerly, Grian thumbs at the faint ice residing on Mumbo’s cheeks from where his tears had previously streaked down his face. He barely registers that his own tears have returned, too focused on trying to find a heartbeat in Mumbo’s chest. Between his own sobs and shaking, Grian can barely make out the faint pumping of Mumbo’s heart.

“Mumbo, Mumbo please wake up, please!” Grian whimpers, pressing himself as hard as he can against the redstoner’s chest, as if he could will warmth and life back into him. He gasps as the cave is suddenly engulfed into darkness, the torch finally snuffing itself out. Grian wraps his arms around Mumbo’s chest as hard as he can and burrows himself into his boyfriend’s unmoving body.

“I love you Mumbo. I love you.”

The cold licks at Grian’s skin and now, he has nothing to fight for. He can feel his tears beginning to freeze to his cheeks, his fingers and toes going numb, the tendrils of pain arcing through him. The ice settles over him like a blanket, and in his last few moments of coherency, he swears he starts to warm up, his skin settling into comfort, his mind empty. Mumbo is still and cold beneath him, but that’s okay. They’re together.

Grian smiles as the world falls away, the ice welcoming him home.

* * *

Burning.

The first thing Grian registers is the burning. The air in his lungs feels hotter than the nether, his skin like lava, his mind engulfed in flames. He can feel the fire eating away at his fingers, his legs, his arms.

It’s _excruciating._

He thinks he hears someone calling his name, but between the flames eating away at him and the loud ringing in his ears, he can’t tell if he’s imagining it or not.

Death is much more painful than he was expecting. He had been expecting, well. Nothing. The constant agony seems overkill. Clenching his teeth together, Grian tries to fight back the screams that want to escape him as the burning seems to get worse. His limbs are going numb, the only sensation he can register is that of his nerves being destroyed.

He gasps however, as the sudden feeling of cold rushes over him. The flames begin to recede, and his mind clears just enough for him to hear the soothing voice of Stress, whispering that he’s okay, that he’s safe, that he’s _home_. Desperately hoping that this isn’t a dream, or some kind of delusion, Grian lets himself melt into the cold embrace and the comforting words. Moments blur together as the numbness slowly leaves Grian’s body, and finally, after what could have been hours to days, he opens his eyes.

The world swirls around him, shifting in and out of focus until his vision clears and he realizes that, no, he isn’t dead, but he certainly feels like he might have been.

Stress is hovering over him, her bright brown eyes watching him with concern, and Grian watches as a relieved grin stretches across her face as their eyes meet. She doesn’t speak again, but wraps her arms around him and gently squeezes. He hugs her back, her familiar grip and scent nearly bringing him to tears.

They actually survived… somehow. The ice, the snow, those wretched winds, _they survived_. As if sensing his silent question, Stress pulls away slightly, and for the first time Grian gets a good look at Mumbo and Iskall next to them. Mumbo looks about as good as Grian feels, though he’s relived to see the other man alert and awake. Iskall meets his gaze, and Grian can tell just how anxious they both had been, Iskall’s one good eye dripping with love and worry. He and Stress push Mumbo and Grian’s beds together, both clambering up to join them. Stress takes Mumbo’s hand while Iskall takes Grian’s, and starts to explain.

“We got worried after the clouds started rolling in and you weren’t back yet, since we knew you had flown north. We contacted Xisuma, and he confirmed that your communicators had gone offline, so he, myself, and False flew out to your last pinged coordinates,” Iskall’s voice wavers as he describes how they had found them. Grian tries not to wince as Iskall’s eyes go dark.

“It took us a bit to find the cave you had taken refuge in, and even longer to get you both out. You were—you both were essentially frozen to the ground, and to each other. It’s a wonder either of you still had a heartbeat. Xisuma managed to create extra strength regeneration potions in order to get you both back to stable health. He and False carried you both while I led the way back. It—you’ve both been unconscious for around twelve hours. We—we thought we were going to lose you. Permanently.”

Iskall buries his face in his hands, and Stress takes over speaking.

“It was pr’ty touch an’ go for a bit, I won’ lie. We were scared, real scared. But it’s alright now. Ya both are okay, ya both are safe, and we’re together. Xisuma said ya two might be a wee bit groggy for a few days, but that ya should both make full recov’ries.”

Stress’ smile was tinged with tears, and with a glance at each other, Grian and Mumbo both opened their arms. Iskall and Stress embraced them near immediately, and despite the lingering pain, Grian brought them all together for one massive hug.

“We’re sorry. We should have been paying closer attention to the skies. We’re so sorry,” Mumbo murmurs, tucking Stress under his chin. Iskall nuzzles his face into the crook of Grian’s neck, and reaches out to grip Mumbo’s free hand in his own.

The four of them lie there for ages, merely soaking in each other’s warmth and love.

Grian slips back into sleep after a while, but this time, warm and safe, his three loves surrounding him.

Outside their home, the storm continues to rage, the winds screaming against the windows, fighting for entry it’ll never gain, the ice creeping across the windows like jail bars, the snow piling in the locked doorways. Ice and snow is inevitable, but that doesn’t mean its darkness is.

In his sleep, Grian smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!! I've learned that I am much too willing to go on and on about the deadly beauty of ice and snow lmao. I hope you all enjoyed, kudos and comments always appreciated!!


End file.
